


A Deal with the Stranger

by immortallongings



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 17:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6018331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortallongings/pseuds/immortallongings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pre-Blackwater AU where Sandor makes a deal with the Stranger to save Sansa's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Deal with the Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction (actually my first fiction piece ever) so I apologize for weird style/writing. I hope you enjoy reading this!

"Make her naked," the boy king sneered.

As Ser Meryn stepped towards Sansa and tore at her dress, Sandor gripped his sword hilt tightly. He forced himself to keep his breathing deep and steady, to still his features so that no one would guess his inner anguish. The girl fell to her knees with a muffled sob and Sandor finally lost the battle he had been fighting since the girl's father had been killed.

He brought his left hand up to his breastbone where a dull silver coin dangled from a leather cord. ' _Come here now, you sneaky bitch. You owe me a favor and I'm calling it in. Come on,_ ' he pleaded in his mind.

The flat of Ser Meryn's sword struck Sansa's back yet again. Sandor raged in his mind. ' _You owe me!_ ' he growled. ' _Come here now!_ '

In the center of the throne room, to the left of the bleeding girl, a hint of black mist appeared. With each passing second the mist grew and grew, until it dwarfed the false knight standing near it. Ser Meryn looked at the king in panic, trying to decide what to do. When Joffrey ignored Meryn, focusing instead on the cloud, Ser Meryn quickly backed away from the terrifying mist and hid amongst the crowd.

The smoke swirled, and as Sansa glanced around the court, everyone seemed to have a look of fear as they gazed into the smoke. Sansa forgot her excruciating pain and her humiliation as her curiosity got the best of her. She steeled herself and looked into the cloud. The mist swirled violently but appeared to take form every few seconds. Sansa focused on what seemed to be the head of the mist and saw her father smiling at her. She gasped and closed her eyes. Once they opened, the cloud had gone back to being a simple black mist. Her father was gone. Instead, out of the cloud arose a lazy drawl that was definitely not that of her father: "You'd think that after all this time you'd treat me with a bit more respect."

King Joffrey rose from his throne and looked at the mist. "Wh-what is that?" he whimpered at his mother, his voice cracking on the first word. Sansa could only guess as to who Joffrey had seen in the mist. Cersei shook her head fearfully and turned to Lord Varys, looking for answers. Varys spread his hands in front of him in a helpless gesture, for once lost for words.

"Who was she talking to? Who hasn't been respectful?" Joffrey shrieked. As his council tittered and speculated, Sandor strode to Sansa, ripped off his white Kingsguard cloak, and gently wrapped it around her. Watery blue eyes met steel grey. "Stay close to me, little bird. I'll keep you safe."

"What is this?" Sansa asked. The Hound merely shook his head at her and faced the cloud.

By now the smoke had begun to solidify as the room was filled with the sound of a long, exasperated sigh. "Is he always like this?" it asked. The smoke started to form the figure of a tall woman. She was slim and dark-skinned, with long wavy black hair that ended at her waist. She wore a long dress as black as the night sky, but no stars twinkled in its depths. The dress sleeves were very long - unfashionably long, Sansa thought - but just barely missed covering the woman's bitten nails. Her long, full skirt constantly shifted and Sansa thought that it looked like her dress was made of waves of the smoke the woman had appeared out of. Her face was round, not gaunt as Sansa would have guessed. Her eyes were pitch black and betrayed boredom and a flicker of wicked humor. She was beautiful in an eerie way, Sansa decided. The woman's eyes glanced briefly at Sansa, and for a moment she thought she saw her father's calm greys smiling at her. Then they flicked to Sandor.

"You've been holding onto that favor for years. Why am I here now, Sandor of House Clegane?" she asked. Now that the woman was physically in the room, Sansa could hear the nuances of her voice. She spoke quietly; Sansa doubted that she ever had to raise her voice for everyone naturally hushed to hear what she had to say. Sansa had sensed a great deal of impatience from the woman when she had inquired about Joffrey, but when she spoke to Sandor her voice softened with a strange sort of tenderness. Sansa wondered who this woman could be who cared for Sandor.

"You come here and interrupt my court then dare to speak to my dog before you address me?!" Joffrey cried. "I am the king! You must defer to me! I did not give you permission to talk to my dog!"

The woman slowly turned to Joffrey. Sansa felt a sense of dread; though she hated Joffrey, she truly believed that this woman had inflicted pain upon people in ways that Joffrey could never imagine, even in his wildest dreams.

The woman slowly and silently stalked her way to the front of the throne room. "You should be more respectful, boy." she said quietly.

"Who are you to tell me how to act?"

Out of the corner of her eye Sansa saw Sandor's mouth twitch in a small smirk before quickly being suppressed.

"I am the Receiver of Many, Aidoneus, Aita. I have as many names as I have faces, but I believe you know me as the Stranger. Now do you wish to adjust your behavior?"

Joffrey clenched his jaw and fumed as his face slowly turned a furious shade of red.

"That's a good color on you, boy. Next time add a bit more purple," the Stranger remarked. She turned back to Sansa and Sandor. "I will ask again, Cù Sìth. Why have you called me here?"

The Hound grimaced at the Stranger's name for him, which Sansa could only guess was a pet name, before taking a deep breath, stepping closer to Sansa, and then speaking: "You owe me a favor. Now's the time for you to pay up."

The Stranger looked contemplatively at Sandor and Sansa. "And what would you ask of me?" she purred dangerously.

Sandor looked around suspiciously. The Stranger impatiently flicked her wrist and the people around them froze. Sansa quickly closed her mouth after realizing she had been gaping inelegantly at this display of power.

Sandor looked appreciatively at the Stranger. "This is--"

"Sansa of House Stark. Yes, I know. What of it?" the Stranger interrupted.

"You owe me a life. I choose her."

The Stranger stared at Sandor for many long moments. For the first time since Sansa had met him, Sandor looked nervous and hastened to fill the empty space with words.

"The idiot boy king will kill her. It's only a matter of time. And before he does that, he will make sure she suffers even more. She doesn't deserve that. I'm asking you to save her life by taking her away from here. I would do it myself, but..." Sandor trailed off. "I don't trust myself with such a task."

Sansa was shocked. Sandor had basically declared his affection for her to the God of Death, a god she hadn't thought he'd believed in. He was asking the Stranger to save Sansa's life instead of calling in the favor for himself, perhaps during a brutal battle.

The Stranger sighed. "Let me think," she said.

"Think?" Sandor snarled. "You don't get to fucking think. You made an oath. You must uphold it." His fury was palpable and Sansa feared that nothing good would come from testing the Stranger's good mood.

"Hush," the Stranger shot back at him. "I will save her from the king, but I need to figure out exactly how. The affairs of the Gods are far more complicated than you mortals could ever know," she sneered.

The Stranger tapped her finger on her chin thoughtfully; she appeared to be making calculations in her mind. Sansa took the time to glance at Sandor. He had been staring apprehensively at the Stranger, but upon feeling her gaze, turned to Sansa.

He looked slightly embarrassed, as if expressing any positive feelings towards another person was a weakness. Sansa gave him a small but true smile. Sandor flinched and turned away, but not before Sansa saw a strange mix of hope and shame in his eyes.

"I have an offer to make you, Sandor." Seeing that Sandor was about to angrily interrupt, she quickly shook her head to cut him off. "If I take the girl from here, I can tell you with absolute certainty that I will have to return to collect your life within the hour." Sansa gasped and looked towards Sandor. He appeared unfazed.

"Aye, I knew I wouldn't survive long if I took the little shit's plaything."

"Well, I feel compelled to tell you that the girl will only survive four days on her own outside of this city. Seeing as your request does not involve me saving her life from any unsavory characters besides the king, I will not take it upon myself to give her more help once she is free.

"If I leave both of you here, Sansa will not die. In fact, the boy king will perish before she does." The Stranger said this with a smirk. "But you, Sandor, will meet me again in a few moons, dying alone on some distant hill. Though of course, I would be willing to help you then and there seeing as I would still owe you the favor.

"The last course of action I can see happening is that I would take both of you out of here, probably across the Narrow Sea. However, this is dependent on one thing: Sandor, you would have to promise not to kill your older brother." Sandor seethed at this and made as if to yell at the Stranger.

"I know this is unideal," she said pointedly, "but it's the only way the numbers work out. Your brother will eventually die and justice will be served, just not at your hand."

"Justice?" Sandor spat out. "You dare talk to me about justice. What do you know about justice, you dead bitch?" he yelled angrily.

"Nothing, actually," the Stranger remarked casually, unfazed by Sandor's outburst. "That's more of the Father's godly role, don't you think? I just collect souls and make a few deals along the way." Sandor's rage settled slightly at that, but his fists remained clenched and his whole body strained with tension.

"I'll give you two a little bit of time to discuss your options." The Stranger smiled kindly at Sansa. "By the way, I was sorry to take your father, Sansa Stark. It was not his time."

Sansa teared up at this and gave a small curtsy. "Thank you for your words, Lady Stranger," she quietly said.

The Stranger snorted at that. "I am hardly a lady." She turned and started walking a short distance away. "Decide quickly, there are dead people I need to reap," she called over her shoulder.

Sansa looked up at Sandor. He refused to look at her and instead stared at a column in the back of the room.

"Se-" Sansa paused. "Sandor." Sandor started at the sound of his given name passing through her lips. He sighed softly.

"Sandor," Sansa said again, hesitantly reaching out to him. "Look at me," she pleaded. She gently touched his burned cheek and turned it towards her.

Sandor flinched violently at the feel of her hand but almost immediately after, returned his face to the soft warmth of her touch. He closed his eyes for a long moment before opening them to look into Sansa's deep blues.

Sansa smiled softly at him. "What should we do?"

"Well we can't take the first option because we would both die," he said gruffly, hiding his vulnerability behind his forced tone. Sansa nodded, for once not taken aback by his grim assessment of their situation. "The third option is also out because I wouldn't be able to kill my brother." Sandor felt Sansa's hand shake almost imperceptibly against his burnt cheek at his statement before lowering back to her side.

He looked away from her again. "I think the best option is the second. I'll wait until another time for the Stranger's help. This way you will survive here. And me, I'll be able to kill Gregor."

He hesitantly looked down to make eye contact with Sansa. She was gripping his Kingsguard cloak tightly around her and hiding her face in its rough folds, avoiding his eyes.

"What is it, girl?" he growled.

"I-" she stammered. "I don't like the second option very much." Sansa looked at Sandor briefly before looking down again in embarrassment at her forwardness. "But of course it's your choice and a stupid little bird like me doesn't know about these things."

Sandor sighed, feeling his heart ache subtly at the conviction in Sansa's self-criticism. "Why don't you like the second choice, little bird? You would survive. Joffrey wouldn't kill you. You wouldn't have to flee to a different country. It is the best option."

Sansa shook her head vehemently. "No, it's not. The Stranger said you would die alone on a hill. There are no hills near here. That means you would have left King's Landing, that-" her voice dropped to a whisper. "That you would have left me."

Sandor looked sharply at her, trying to detect if she was japing at his expense.

"I- I-" Sansa stuttered, blushing furiously. "I don't want you to die. And it hurts me to think of you leaving here... Without me."

Sandor's mouth dropped open in shock. He knew this stretched his scars horribly and made the bone even more visible, but he couldn't help himself. It seemed that the little bird cared for the old hound dog, though he wasn't sure in what way.

"And I know you think it's best for me to stay here, in a place I know, but at what cost?" Sansa continued. "Yes, I will outlive Joffrey, but it could be years before he dies. Years of torment and humiliation. And with you gone I will have no one left."

"You think I am your friend?" Sandor snarled. "You think I am anything more than the king's butcher, the dog that stood by and watched you get beaten? I am a monster," Sandor shouted. His anger was taking control of him, but he couldn't stand the little bird's naïveté. He had felt a flicker of what might have been hope at her words, but quickly quashed it when he remembered who he was.

His face was inches away from Sansa's. His teeth were bared in a growl; Sandor had seen seasoned knights tremble in fear upon receiving this look. But the little bird, the sweet little bird, looked him in the eyes and touched his cheek again.

"You won't hurt me," she stated simply. "I know you're afraid that you'll lose yourself, but I know you won't." She smiled tremulously. "You won't hurt me," she repeated.

Sandor sighed deeply and pulled away from her. "No, little bird," he said quietly. "I won't hurt you," he whispered like a prayer.

The sound of cheerful whistling hailed them. The Stranger approached them.

"Well, what is your decision?" she asked Sandor, only giving Sansa a cursory glance.

Sandor sighed again and looked over to Sansa. She gently took his hand in hers. Sandor closed his eyes and let himself savor her touch. _'Who am I kidding?'_   he thought to himself. _'I could never leave her in this den of lions. I could never leave her alone to be broken.'_

He pulled Sansa's hand up to his chest and placed it over his heart. The Stranger quirked an eyebrow at him.

"We're leaving Westeros."

Sansa let out a choked sound, a strange mix of a laugh and a cry.

The Stranger nodded, looking unsurprised. "You do realize you won't be able to go after your brother?" she asked. Sandor nodded. "And if I ever see you raise a weapon against him, even in self-defense, I will strike you down?"

"Yes, I understand. Get on with it, wench," Sandor snapped.

The Stranger narrowed her eyes at him. "I hope with time Lady Sansa will be able to tame you," she sneered.

"But then I wouldn't be the vicious pup you adore," Sandor quipped back.

The Stranger rolled her eyes. "Why do I even bother with you? I should have killed you when you were a boy."

Sansa was afraid that the Stranger would strike down Sandor out of anger, but instead the god just laughed. She turned to Sansa. "Get your things ready. Do you want me to wake anyone up to help you? A handmaiden perhaps?"

Sansa nodded. "Yes, I could use the help of Shae," Sansa pointed her out in the crowd.

The Stranger froze and Sansa thought she saw a look of disgust and sadness on her face. "All right," she said.

The Stranger walked up to Shae and gripped her chin firmly in her fingers. Shae jerked awake and looked into the Stranger's eyes. Shae started to shake violently as she kept staring at the Stranger. Sansa started forward to help her friend, but Sandor stopped her and held her back.

The Stranger murmured a few words to Shae as Shae nodded vigorously. The Stranger let her go and turned back to Sansa and Sandor.

"All right, you two. Be back soon. Then we'll head off to the start of your new lives."

Sansa and Shae started making their way across the throne room. Sansa saw Shae stop briefly and stare at Tyrion sadly before continuing.

As the two women left the room Sandor turned to the Stranger. "What was that about?" he asked, amused with the Stranger's uncharacteristic lack of restraint.

"I didn't like what I saw for her death," the Stranger said simply.

\---

Soon Sansa and Sandor were back in the throne room with the Stranger. The Stranger had been casually walking through the crowd, examining each face and smirking at some secret knowledge she possessed.

Sandor grabbed Sansa's bag and hauled it over his shoulder. "Ready to leave your cage, little bird?" he rasped.

Sansa turned to Sandor. "As ready as I'll ever be," she said breathlessly. She smiled shyly and grabbed Sandor's hand, savoring the contrast of his calloused palm with her soft, porcelain one.

Sandor took a deep breath and nodded, intertwining his fingers with Sansa's. They turned as one to look at the Stranger.

Sandor ripped the silver coin off its leather cord and tossed it to the Stranger. The strange God of Death caught it with a smirk and soon mist began to envelop the trio. As the Red Keep was flooded with the black mist, Sansa gripped Sandor's hand tighter and savored the warmth of freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who were wondering why the Stranger called Sandor 'Cù Sìth', it's because when I was looking up various gods of death in different mythologies, I cam across Cù Sìth. It's a Scottish hound that is supposed to be a harbinger of death. I thought it fit Sandor perfectly!


End file.
